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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25354360">By Touch and Taste</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoreyG/pseuds/DoreyG'>DoreyG</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stanton &amp; Barling - E.M. Powell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Age Difference, Costume Parties &amp; Masquerades, Getting Together, M/M, Oral Sex, Smut</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 07:42:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,611</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25354360</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoreyG/pseuds/DoreyG</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>This entire situation would’ve been a lot, or at least a <i>little</i> more acceptable if he hadn’t been forced to stand alone. But Stanton, despite also having been invited to the festivities for his ‘acts of valour’ (well deserved, he could admit inside his own head), had become mysterious for the first time in his life.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aelred Barling/Hugo Stanton</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Battleship 2020, Battleship 2020 - Yellow Team</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>By Touch and Taste</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/greygerbil/gifts">greygerbil</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The party was loud, and close, and irritatingly confusing. A masked ball in honour of the king’s birthday, and he knew that he should’ve been thrilled to receive an invite but instead he was just annoyed and starting to develop a headache.</p><p>This entire situation would’ve been a lot, or at least a <i>little</i> more acceptable if he hadn’t been forced to stand alone. But Stanton, despite also having been invited to the festivities for his ‘acts of valour’ (well deserved, he could admit inside his own head), had become mysterious for the first time in his life. Had promised that he’d be there, with an oddly significant glance that’d sent heat flaring to his face, and then had utterly failed to turn up. Had left him there, standing unnoticed in the corner of the room with nobody to hide behind.</p><p>He stared out at the mass of people moving around before him, some already engaged in acts of debauchery and some obviously only five minutes away from it, and absently swirled the full glass of wine that’d been forced on him. And as he did so he thought about Stanton.</p><p>Stanton…</p><p>Stanton’s golden hair. Stanton’s shining blue eyes. Stanton’s smile, bright enough to light up any room. Stanton’s kindness. Stanton’s determination. Stanton’s understanding. The way he’d started to feel about Stanton, just recently, and the way that Stanton looked at him sometimes like he knew <i>everything</i> and didn’t care one jot.</p><p>It was foolish, he should be long past such naivety now that he was into his third decade, but a part of him had harboured <i>hopes</i> about this ball. He’d known it’d be debauched, he’d known it’d be close to anonymous. Maybe they could’ve used it as an excuse to lay aside decorum for just one night, to pretend that they were strangers and take pleasure in each other at last. Maybe…</p><p>Oh, it was a pointless fantasy. One more likely to wound him, than bring any actual pleasure. Suddenly, staring out at the heaving room, he’d had enough of debauchery and secrecy and constantly standing on the outside looking in. He glanced around the room quickly, making sure that he wouldn’t be missed, and then shuffled sideways to place his glass of wine on a side table and quickly scuttled away. The palace was transformed for the ball, warped into the shape of the king’s fantasies, but he knew it well enough in waking life. Surely it should be easy enough to find one of the numerous side passages, leave altogether and nurse his hopeless dreams in the privacy of his own rooms.</p><p>He dodged a man dressed as a rather pathetic lion, who might well have been the king himself to tell truth, and wasn’t noticed. He dodged a fine lady dressed as a member of the arthurian court, complete with a hat that could’ve blinded a man, and wasn't noticed. He dodged past men and women, and groups of men and groups of women and groups that were perfectly innocent and groups that were cheerfully engaged in debauchery, and was not noticed at all. By the time he reached a door, he was feeling a strange mixture of relieved and put out.</p><p>Stanton would’ve noticed his escape, Stanton would’ve probably chased after him. But Stanton wasn’t here, so could notice nothing.</p><p>He carefully tugged open the door, relieved to discover that some enterprising soul had oiled it for the party, and slipped out. The fabric of his monk’s habit, as much of a disguise as he’d been willing to dare, briefly caught against the coarse wood, but that was as much of an obstacle as he faced. He was out, he was free.</p><p>He let out a sigh, already well practiced at pretending it was relieved instead of morose, turned and immediately ran face first into a muscular chest. He had just enough time to appreciate the body underneath, it almost rivalled Stanton’s and he felt like he’d spent half of their acquaintance staring at Stanton’s body by now, and then he was jumping backwards with a yelp and a doubtlessly scarlet face.</p><p>The man in front of him was dressed in a jester’s motley, which was probably something that Stanton would’ve heartily appreciated. The similarities with Stanton didn’t end there, much was the pity. The build, as earlier noted, was definitely the same. Bright blue eyes sparkled from behind a multicoloured mask, and he swore he saw a golden curl poking loose from under that jester’s hat. The man’s smile was just as kind as Stanton’s too, as he moved forward again to lay a solicitous hand on his elbow. “I’m sorry, I must’ve startled you. Are you alright?”</p><p>All of the similarities were just illusions, ones created by his mind because he longed for Stanton and wished that he was here. They were still intoxicating. He had to swallow, dryly, before he remembered what words were. “I’m fine. As you said, just startled.”</p><p>“I was in a hurry, you see. It’s no excuse, but…” The man hesitated for a second, as if he’d been about to reveal more, and then turned his pretty gaze to the door behind him. “Is the ball already over? I thought, given the king’s proclivities, that it’d carry on for several hours yet.”</p><p>“You are fairly late for it,” he said, somewhat waspishly, but found himself reluctantly melting a little when the man turned an amused gaze back to him. “But no, it isn’t over quite yet and probably won’t be for a while. I just found that I needed some air, that was all. The revelry wasn’t quite to my taste.”</p><p>“Ah, were you being mobbed by overfamiliar admirers?” The man winked at him, and he was struck briefly breathless by the similarity to Stanton yet again. God’s blood, he really was gone on the man if he was reduced to seeing mirrors of him in every single stranger. “Not a surprise, considering what a handsome gentleman you are.”</p><p>“I-” He felt the blush, never really vanquished, surge fully back to life and spread all across his face. “Um. No, not really. The exact opposite problem, as a matter of fact.”</p><p>“Really?” The man arched an eyebrow, seeming incredulous. He shouldn’t have found it flattering, but somehow a part of him most decidedly did. “You mean that <i>nobody</i> noticed your abundant charms?”</p><p>“No call to notice what doesn’t exist,” he muttered, and blinked in shock as the stranger made a face at that. Almost as if he disapproved of his habitually low opinion of himself, despite never meeting him before. “I was supposed to meet somebody here, somebody special, but… He obviously forgot that I existed.”</p><p>“I can’t imagine anybody ever doing that,” the stranger said, his voice surprisingly kind. When he looked up at the man, surprised yet again, he found an odd look of hurt shining in his eyes. “You cherished hopes of this man?”</p><p>He stared at the stranger warily for a long moment, debating how much of himself to reveal. This could well be a trap laid by an enemy, yet another unfortunate person who remembered the regretful days of Paris. And even if it wasn’t a trap, he liked to think that he knew better than to reveal his deepest secret to the first stranger that came along.</p><p>But…</p><p>“It’s alright,” the stranger said amiably, not seeming to expect anything of him. Yet again like Stanton in that way, always content to let him lead the pace when it came to matters of such intimacy. “I’ve cherished hopes of a certain man myself, in my day.”</p><p>Maybe Stanton’s abandonment had hurt him more than he’d initially thought. Maybe repressing himself for <i>years</i>, carefully putting his every desire into a box until Stanton had come along, had hurt him even worse. For suddenly he found that he wanted to confide his secrets to this stranger, to get everything off his chest and see if it helped his fruitless longing even one bit.</p><p>“I suppose I did, yes,” he said, as neutrally as he could, and met the man’s open stare head on despite the nerves fluttering in his belly. “Still do, to be honest. You see, I only had one affair before I met him and that went… Poorly. I thought I was past matters of love after it, thought I was doomed to wither and die all by myself, but then I met him.”</p><p>“And?”</p><p>“And the world came back to life again,” he whispered, in the tone of a confessional but knowing that he would never confide this to any actual priest. “He was so handsome, it was like staring at a modern day Adonis. But that wasn’t even the most important thing. He was kind, he learned, he listened, he seemed to like me even when I was at my absolute spikiest. And he didn’t shy away when I told him my darkest secrets. Still hasn’t shied away, even though he must be aware by now that I have feelings for him. He’s the best man that I know, and probably the best man that I’ve ever met.”</p><p>The stranger remained silent for a long moment, processing this. He knew a brief moment of fear, a brief worry that he’d gone too far in his impromptu confession, before the man spoke again. “It sounds like you’re half in love with this gentleman.”</p><p>“Maybe,” He said, hardly relieved but resigned to the fact that it was too late to go back now. “But can it really be love if it’s not returned?”</p><p>“Ael-” The man stuttered, smiled a blinding smile equal to Stanton’s best efforts to cover it. “Ale has convinced many people that it is, believe you me. Your plan is to sit in your rooms and pine for the rest of the night because your courtly love hasn’t turned up, then?”</p><p>“Maybe,” he said a touch frostily, a little put out because that most certainly was his plan. “Unless you have any better ideas?”</p><p>“Oh, a few,” the stranger said innocently, not seeming to mind his ice. My, maybe he really was just as resilient as Stanton when it came to the matter of his personality. “You could go back to the party, and watch the king cheerfully debauch himself. You could go for a nice walk through the gardens, and ignore all the couples in bushes. You could go home and <i>not</i> pine after a young man who doesn’t deserve you. Or…”</p><p>His heart stopped when the stranger stepped in close again, and restarted with a few hard thumps when the man carefully reached out and traced a meaningful finger up his arm.</p><p>“Or,” the stranger continued, in a hushed voice gone slightly rough. “You could let <i>me</i> distract you.”</p><p>He stared at the hand on his arm, stared back up at the stranger for a few frozen moments. He knew that he should take any of the first three options, or at least pretend to take them. Escape back through the door into the party, escape out into the gardens, escape back to his rooms and pretend not to pine while secretly drowning in the ache of his heart.</p><p>But…</p><p>He was so tired of escaping, so tired of being offered things and forcing himself to accept absolutely nothing instead. Stanton wasn’t coming, so why not allow himself a few moments of pleasure with a stranger that looked like him - almost exactly like him, under that mask and hat and colourful motley - instead?</p><p>He drew in a deep breath, allowed himself to move closer into the stranger’s orbit and made his decision. “Yes.”</p><p>The stranger, surprisingly, did not seem to have been expecting that. He blinked, quite obviously, and looked a little dazed. “Yes?”</p><p>“I know you’re not deaf, you’ve proved it amply throughout this entire conversation,” he said waspishly, and found himself a little surprised as the stranger - even in the midst of his obvious shock - found time to smile at that little bit of spikiness. “I said yes. Please attempt to distract me.”</p><p>There was a long moment of silence, then the stranger let out a chuckle that was far wryer than any that Stanton had ever managed and gently took ahold of his arm. He allowed himself to be led, nervous but determinedly ignoring it, from the wide open hall to a far more secluded side corridor where they were unlikely to be stumbled upon by anybody who would take offence.</p><p>The man let go of his arm then and turned to him, seeming slightly nervous despite the fact that his body was bracketing him against the wall. “I know- I assume that you’ve never done something like this before. If you want me to stop-”</p><p>“I will tell you, yes,” he said acerbically, since the man seemed to rather like his venom, and took matters into his own hands. It was easy enough to arch up on his toes, to throw his arms around the man’s broad shoulders and slot their mouths together.</p><p>The kiss should’ve been awkward, he hadn’t actually kissed anybody since Richard, but it really wasn’t. Their noses bumped together for maybe a moment, and then the stranger tilted his head one way and he automatically tilted his the other and they were kissing in earnest. The man’s mouth was sweet against his, and oh so talented. The man’s hands were firm on his waist, where they’d flown at his impulsive action, but weren’t at all pushy. The man’s body was muscular against his, even more glorious than he’d assumed from their first brief collision.</p><p>It was almost, a melancholy part of his mind pointed out, exactly what he’d dreamed his first kiss with Stanton would’ve been like.</p><p>They parted briefly, both slightly breathless, and stared at each other from a close distance. He briefly fancied that he saw a dazed look in the stranger's eyes, but it soon vanished and so he reluctantly accepted it as yet another fantasy. The man smiled confidently at him instead. "What do you want?"</p><p>"I thought," he said, waspish without entirely knowing why he was being so waspish. "That <i>you</i> were meant to be distracting <i>me</i>."</p><p>"I know." The stranger, for some reason, wore an irrepressible grin upon his face. Almost as if he enjoyed sparring with a spiky man obviously pining for another. "But…"</p><p>The man leaned in again, and the kiss that time was somehow even better. He opened his mouth almost automatically, startled at his own hunger, and the stranger took eager advantage. They made out against the wall almost brutally, tongues twining together and hands clutching at skin and mutual arousal increasingly impossible to ignore.</p><p>"Christ," the stranger gasped when they parted. His voice utterly wrecked, his eyes most definitely dazed under his multicoloured mask.</p><p>He summoned up a disapproving glare at the blasphemy, but couldn't do much else. He felt a little breathless himself, to tell truth. A little dazed because he'd never dreamed that kissing could be so good, especially with a man he didn't know and didn't care for.</p><p>"My mouth." The breathless feeling only got worse when the stranger spoke again, slowly and worshipfully as if he was remembering something absolutely wonderful. "Would you like me to use my mouth?"</p><p>For some reason, probably his ridiculous pining heart, his mind flashed back to one of the more intimate stories he'd told Stanton about Paris. It'd been a while ago, before he'd even dreamed about the man in that way, but… </p><p>No, he pushed the foolish thought away. This was a handsome stranger, not Stanton. He looked up at the man, who was staring down at him so very eagerly, and drew in a deep - and admittedly rather eager - breath, "Yes."</p><p>The stranger didn’t ask him if he was certain this time, which was a mercy as he didn’t think that either of their nerves would’ve been able to take it. Instead he only gave a slow and sultry smile, one that reminded him impossibly of Stanton yet again, and slowly slid down to kneel upon the floor.</p><p>He had worn front fastening robes tonight. Not entirely accurate, which would’ve usually bothered him, but before the party he had been torn between futile hope and entirely sensible misery and so had grabbed the first garments that’d come to hand. He found himself glad for them now, as the Stranger slipped clever hands within and easily found the fastenings.</p><p>The man undid him to the waist, and then very slowly revealed him as if unwrapping a present. It was hard to see the full extent of his expression, with the mask covering it and the hat dipping intermittently over his face, but for some reason he fancied that it was slightly awestruck as he revealed first calves and then thighs and then his already half hard cock straining at the centre of his legs. Strange, that a stranger should be so very fascinated by his unimpressive body.</p><p>There was a realization waiting there, if he teased it hard enough, but he was hardly in the mood for chasing pointless knowledge tonight. He turned his mind to more practical matters instead, such as the fact that his robes would probably fall forward mid-passion and obscure the stranger from his view. For some reason, another reason he didn’t want to look at too closely, he didn’t like that thought. He reached down to undo a few extra ties until his far too lean stomach was revealed, tugged his robes back fully and tucked them behind him.</p><p>The stranger blinked for a moment, and then smiled up at him wryly. Their eyes met, and a long and faintly unexpected moment stretched between them. It was almost as if they were communicating without words, a feat that he’d only ever managed with Stanton before.</p><p>And then the man leaned carefully forward and slid between his legs.</p><p>He didn’t lower his mouth straight away, which was a surprise but not exactly an unpleasant one. Instead he examined his penis, his cock he corrected himself mentally with a self-conscious blush, for a long moment before reaching out with his hands. He wrapped his left hand around it, and gave a careful pump. His fingers and palm were surprisingly calloused, as if he held reins for a living.</p><p>The callouses worked for him, as did the exploratory touch. He swelled to full hardness under the stranger’s ministrations, couldn’t forbear from a soft groan as he did so. He hadn’t been touched like this for so long, hadn’t even really touched himself in the years since Richard. And with the callouses, and the gentleness, he could very easily imagine that it was Stanton kneeling there before him.</p><p>The stranger flashed him a pleased glance, for all the world like his pleasure actually meant something, and leaned in fully at that. For all the man’s confidence, for all his brazenness in approaching a man that he’d never met and suggesting an assignation almost right off the bat, the first touch of his tongue was tentative. He licked over the head clumsily, and only carefully dipped in to taste the slit. From his slight jolt, he hadn’t quite been expecting the taste of precome. </p><p>An absurd, probably inappropriate, sense of fondness welled up in his chest at such uncertainty. This was not Stanton, he should probably stop imagining otherwise, but he knew that his friend also had no experience with other men and the similarity pleased him. He reached out to gently cup the man’s face, let out another breathy moan and tried to convey that it was good even like this - that arousal was still flooding through him from such kittenish licks, and leaving him raw and hot.</p><p>The stranger seemed cheered by this, although it was rather hard to tell considering that his mouth was currently busy with better things. The man slowly edged forward at such encouragement, wrapped his mouth fully around the head of his cock. He suckled there for a moment, still clumsy but with an endearing amount of focus, and then slowly moved forward again. He gagged a little the first time he lowered his mouth down the length of his cock, but only paused briefly before continuing. It was clear that he didn’t want to let a thing like this go.</p><p>Sweet man, he almost felt guilty that he was spending their entire encounter fantasising about somebody else. He let out another encouraging moan, hardly feigned because the feeling of the man’s hot mouth around him was so very sweet, and tentatively lowered his hands to rest on the man’s colourful shoulders. He had a little more leverage that way, even if at the moment he was perfectly content to let the man set his own tentative and yet eager pace.</p><p>The stranger’s confidence seemed to be growing by the moment, he was obviously almost as quick a learner as Stanton. He started to move more quickly upon his cock, but didn’t gag again. Before long he was setting up a steady rhythm, the dip of his head growing quicker on every pass. The man was a natural. If he ever chose to do this again, probably not with him of course, he would probably bring his next partner to blissful tears.</p><p>This was a slightly new experience for him too. He’d been sucked off by that whore, of course, and Richard had lowered himself once or twice out of mere curiosity… But never like this, with such obvious focus. He found himself slowly melting under the attention, sinking down the wall a little as he settled into the slowly rising pleasure. He even started to tentatively move his hips into the man’s mouth, shuddering a little as the pleasure exponentially increased with every little movement.</p><p>There was no need to be tentative, the man somehow seemed to gain even more confidence from his faltering thrusts. The man started properly moving his mouth now, started timing his bobs to his thrusts until they were moving perfectly together. As he did so he moved one of his now free hands back between his legs; slid a teasing finger over his balls, which made him gasp and briefly close his eyes, and then carefully moved his hand even further until it was rubbing right up against his hole.</p><p>It was another place that he’d never touched, never even really thought about, since Richard had left him. He gasped out loud at the fierce jolt of pleasure flooding through him, clenched his fingers on the man’s shoulders to avoid the urge to lift a hand to his mouth. He had enjoyed being fucked, he remembered that now. And with that remembrance came a thousand other fantasies. Not of the stranger, alas, but of Stanton above him and pushing into him and moving on top of him with the same utter focus…</p><p>The stranger rumbled a laugh around him, thankfully not seeming to notice his distraction, and kept moving with the same absurd confidence. His mouth was tight and hot and perfect. His finger exerted the same pressure throughout, not pushing inside quite yet but rippling against his entrance oh so teasingly. His entire being seemed focused on bringing him pleasure, and damning everything else.</p><p>He was gasping and frantic, the pleasure within him slowly rising to a boil. He clutched at the stranger’s shoulders for a moment more, desperate, and then frantically decided that he needed more. He found his fingers moving up, almost without his conscious permission, and scraping over the sides of the stranger’s face. And then up further still, until they reached his absurd jester’s hat and hooked underneath…</p><p>And knocked it off. Revealing, underneath, the same golden curls that he thought he’d glimpsed earlier. Riotous, and bleached by the summer sun, and the exact same shade that he’d admired on Stanton’s head a thousand times.</p><p>“Aelred,” the stranger - <i>not</i> the stranger - drew back from his ministrations to give a laughing groan, and then dove right back in without a pause.</p><p>The realization slammed into him hard, a thousand disparate pieces coming together all at once. The sparkling blue eyes, the callouses on his hands, the brief glimpses of those golden curls now laid bare. The fond smile, The laughing confidence when approaching a stranger, the absurd focus on him and him alone. The moments where the stranger had seemed to care, so very deeply, for him even though they didn’t even know each other’s names.</p><p>Stanton had had exactly the same dreams about tonight as him, exactly the same goals, exactly the same long cherished hopes. But instead of waiting and hoping and convincing himself that it’d never happen, he’d taken action and gone after what he’d truly wanted.</p><p>He’d already been on the edge, when he’d thought it’d just been a stranger’s mouth wrapped around him, but the realization was enough to bring him straight to the boil. He buried his hands in <i>Stanton’s<i> golden curls, the same curls he’d dreamed about so many times, and spent into the man’s mouth with a loud cry.</i></i></p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Afterwards he felt in a daze, breathless and carried away by sensation. He’d <i>never</i> come that hard before, not even his first few times when everything had been new and furtive and utterly delightful. His nerves still tingled with sensation, his chest heaved like he’d been galloping a horse for hours and the world around him seemed determined to return only in slow and hazy increments. It took him a while to notice Stanton still kneeling on the floor before him, gazing up at him with dreamily content eyes.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>He’d expected a bit of uncertainty over what to do next, but that sight made the decision surprisingly simple. He slid down the wall, more a barely controlled collapse than anything else, and landed in a heap on the floor. And then he took Stanton’s face, still masked and still with an air of plausible deniability, into his hands and kissed him <i>properly</i>. With the force of several years of longing, a thousand desperately felt hopes and the weight of all his barely repressed affection.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Oh,” Stanton said dazedly, when they finally parted for air, and touched one tentative finger to his swollen lips. “I-”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Hush,” he said, hardly surprised to find himself sounding fond, and trailed his own hand down Stanton’s body - <i>how</i> could he have been so foolish to mistake it for anybody else’s? - until he found the man’s still hard cock pulsing against the fastenings of his braies. “You should call on me tomorrow, once you’re recovered from the ball.”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“I didn’t attend the ball, I just attended you,” Stanton murmured, and tilted his head back on a groan as his fingers found their way inside and curved around what was an already painfully hard cock. “Oh, <i>god</i>.”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Language,” he said primly, almost giddily, and started to move his hand as fast as he could given the confines of the cloth. “You should call on me without your mask, when you do come.”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Stanton’s eyes, which had screwed shut at the onslaught of pleasure, flew open at that. His expression flew through several emotions, shock to dawning realization to horror to mild confusion, before eventually settling on a shade of hope so potent that he couldn’t help but tighten his grip. “If you’d like that.”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“I’d like that very much,” he whispered, blinking away foolish happy tears from the corner of his eyes, and leaned in to cover Stanton’s mouth with a kiss as the man jerked and spent against his palm.</i>
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